


Children Ask

by melwil



Series: Tear Stains Universe [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melwil/pseuds/melwil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The questions that children ask</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2003

The child has asked her for years.

He wants to learn about his family, wants to know his own history. He wants to know who his father was.

And she hasn't the strength to tell him his father was famous.

Eventually he'll find the information in a book (there are lots of books, always more and more of them), and he'll confront her, and she'll be forced to tell him everything. She'll probably turn to dust when she speaks his name.

She was always melodramatic.

But she hasn't spoken his name in years.

Maybe the child will understand. He will understand why they have spent so much time running, why they cannot contemplate the thought of standing still, why they live in a state of perpetual fear. Maybe he will understand why they almost never see family, why they are reluctant to consort with other witches and wizards.

Or maybe he will understand nothing. Maybe he will hate her for her silence.

Hate her for the secrecy and the seclusion. Hate her because she's never given him a memory of his father, never given him a picture that he could hang on to in his mind.

The child could always look in a mirror if he wanted a picture of his father.

The child was slightly different, of course. His hair was red, and there were freckles on his nose. He had a hotter temper too. It was the differences that allowed her to look at him without screaming.

It was the differences that allowed her to hold him.

"Mum." Her daughter stands in front of her, a child of messy black pigtails and shy eyes. She holds the mail in her little hands.

The mail. A collection of crumpled envelopes that a bedraggled owl manages to deliver once a week. An anxious letter from her mother, wondering if they were all right. A terse note from her father, informing her that everything was safe now, that it would be alright to come home. Postcards from various brothers and school friends.

A heavy Hogwarts letter.

She held the envelope in her hand, examining the rich green lettering. It was addressed to the child of course, and she had been expecting it for a few weeks now. Still, she couldn't help the fear that crept through her spine.

She would have to tell him now. They would have to get his school supplies, have to go to Diagon Alley. She would have to let him spend holidays with his grandparent, have to let him talk to his father's friends.

He wouldn't be able to take a step into Hogwarts without the legend of Harry Potter hanging over his head. he wouldn't be able to survive without the knowledge . . .

She felt a rush of tears and staggered into her tiny cramped room. The set of drawers groaned alarmingly as she lurched against them; she fell to the floor and opened the bottom drawer.

The book was wrapped in brown paper, the ink faded with time. The publisher thought it would be touching to send a copy of the biography to the widow.

And now she would give the book to the child.

He had to know who his father was.


End file.
